Lydia Halena Basham

Prince George, Virginia

If I am to introduce myself most would expect me to describe my physical features and characteristics. Lydia Basham is none of these things as neither is anyone else. When our bodies have diminished, it is said that we are dead. The philosophy is the accepted truth only because most are afraid of what they do not understand. There is only one death - denial of the soul. As the body passes,the spirit is finally free. Only after this transition one becomes his/her true self. Through my poetry I bare my soul, it is my transition. My readers will know me more intimately than those who have known me since childhood. These works are who I truly am. I merely express the compromise between body and soul through my one true love - poetry.

Struggling
Age has taught that youth is ignorance,
Youth mocks age chanting invitality;
Mine eyes wear no shutters,
I have seen what twice, my elder do not comprehend -
Call me ignorant; I call you blind
Is youth not vital?
Is age not ignorant?

Unto this world was born a child,
This child possessed wisdom in youth;
He fought and felt until He passed.
The elders displayed before the world
the greatest ignorance upon their beloved sacrament -
As death crept on they shouted "Class Dismissed!"
Youth now knows vitality fails -
Yet from this ending a beginning lashes out to all,
It is now that ignorance prevails -
All understanding must fall.
This relentless cycle shall never halt,
Too much time to worry about -
Never enough to figure it out!

Hauntings Of My Soul
This body is but a tomb in which the spirit is captive,
A temple for false worship and vanity:
The flesh reeks with the scent of sin;
Caressed by passions of lust.
If flows with rain of reddened tears;
Which stains of violent touch.
The eyes are the doorway-
The key has locked and lost.
These are the hauntings of my soul,
The wretched nightmares in my mind.
This containment lay marked and tarnished,
The very grave for which I am;
Buried inside this hollow emptiness
In which to ache and waste and plea.
Eternity's timeless clock will tell,
The torments of this living Hell.